greeted him.
“Thank God, you’ve com,’
‘ said Miss Tin.
“Well,” he said, a little confused by this sudden cordiality; “jolly nice of you to put it like that. All I mean is we just dropped in to see that you were all right. Minister said we’d better. Not scared or anything, I mean.”
“All right? We’ve had the most terrible day of our lives.”
“Oh, I say, not as bad as that I hope. We heard at the Legation that there’d been some kind of a disturbance. Well, you’ll be right as rain now, you know. Everything pretty quiet except for a few drunks. If there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”
“Young man, do you intend leaving us here all night?”
“Well… I suppose it sounds inhospitable, but there’s nothing else for it. Full up at the Legation you know. The Bishop arrived unexpectedly and two or three of the commercial fellows took fright and came over for some reason. Jolly awkward…. You see how it is, don’t you?”
“Do you realise that the town is on fire?”
“Yes, rare old blaze. We passed quite near it. It looks awfully jolly from the Legation.”
“Young man, Miss Tin and myself are coming with you now.”
“Oh, look here, I say, you know…”
“Sarah, get in the car. I will bring down a few things for the night.”
The discussion had brought them to the street. William and Anstruther exchanged glances of despair. Sir Samson’s instructions had been: ‘Just see that those tiresome old women are safe, but on no account bring them back here. The place is a bear garden already.’ (This with a scowl towards the Bishop who was very quietly playing Pegity with Prudence in a corner of the drawing-room.)
Dame Mildred, putting little trust in Miss Tin’s ability to restrain the diplomats from starting without her, took few pains with the packing. In less than a minute she was down again with an armful of night clothes and washing materials. At last with a squeeze and a grunt she sank into the back seat.
“Tell me,” asked William with some admiration, as he turned the car round. “Do you always throw bottles at people when you want a lift?’
SEVEN
SIR SAMSON COURTENEY arose next morning in a mood of high displeasure, which be-came the more intense as with every minute of his leisurely toilet he recalled in detail the atro-cious disorders of the preceding evening.
“Never known anything like it,” he reflected on the way to the bathroom. “These wretched people don’t seem to realise that a legation is a place of business. How can I be expected to get through the day’s work, with my whole house overrun with un-invited guests?”
First there had been the Bishop, who arrived during tea with two breathless curates and an absurd story about another revolution and shooting in the streets. Well, why not? You couldn’t expect the calm of Barchester Towers in a place like Azania. Missionary work was known to involve some physical wrork. Nincompoops. Sir Samson lashed the bath water in his contempt and vexation. Then, when they were half-way through dinner who should turn up but the Bank Manager and a scrubby little chap named Jagger. Never heard of him. More wild talk about murder, loot and fire. Dinner started all over again with the result that the duck was ruined. And then the most damnable treachery of all: his wife, of all people, infected with the general panic, had begun to ask about Dame Mildred and Miss Tin. Had they gone down to the coast when the other English people left? Should not something be done about them? The Minister pooh-poohed the suggestion for some time but at length so far yielded to popular appeal as to allow William and Percy to take the car and go out, just to see that the old women had come to no harm. That was the explicit limit of their instructions. And what did they do but bring them along too. Here in fact was the en-tire English population of Debra-Dowa taking ref-uge under his roof. “They’ll have to clear out to-day,” decided the Minister as he lathered his chin, “every man jack of them. It’s an intolerable impo-sition.”
Accommodation in the compound had eventually been found for all the newcomers. The Bishop slept in the Legation, the curates with the Anstruthers, who, in the most sporting manner, moved the children into their own room for the night, Dame Mildred and Miss Tin at the Legges, and the Bank Manager and Mr. Jagger alone in the bungalow vacated by the Walshes. By the time Samson came down to breakfast, however, they were all together again, chattering uproariously on the croquet lawn.
“… my back quite sore… not really accus-262 tomed to riding. ‘
‘ “Poor Mr. Raith. “
“The Church party started it. The priests had been haranguing them for days against birth control. The police learned that an attempt would be made to break up the procession so they arrested the Patriarch just be-fore it was due to start… “
“Troops cleared the streets… fired over their heads… no damage done… “
“… a bullet within a few inches, literally inches, of my head… ” Seth went back to the Palace as soon as it was clear the procession couldn’t take place. My word, he looked angry… “
“Young Seal with him… “
“… it wasn’t so bad when the beast was going uphill. It was that terrible sliding feeling… “Poor Mr. Raith… “
“Then the patrols were all withdrawn and concentrated in front of the Palace. Jagger and I were quite close and saw the whole thing. They had the whole army drawn up in the square and gradually when they realised the shooting was over the crowd began to come back, little knots of sixes and sevens creeping out from the side alleys and then creeping in round the soldiers. This was about half-past five… “
“… and not having proper breeches my knees got sorubbed… “
“PoorMr. Raith…”
