rear-wheel to guard Candy's skirt as she descended.
Then, with her fingers on his forearm, he guided her up the front steps
and through the glass doors into the lobby Of the hotel. The splendour
of the place did not equal Candy's own establishment. But it was
impressive enough-and so was the reception line that awaited them.
While they took their places among those waiting to meet the
Commander-in-Chief, Sean spoke quietly to an aide-de-camp.
'My Lord, may I present Mr. Courtney and Mrs. Rautenbach. ' Lord
Kitchener had a formidable presence. His hand was cold and hard and he
stood as tall as Sean. The eyes that stared for an instant into Sean's
held a disquieting rigidity of purpose.
Then he turned to Candy and his expression softened momentarily as he
bowed over her hand.
'Very kind of you to come, madam.'
Then they were past and into the gaudy of uniforms and velvet and silk.
The whole was dominated by dress scarlet of the Guards and Fusiliers,
but there was also the gold-fragged blue of the Hussars, the green of
the Foresters, kilts of half a dozen Highland regiments, so that Sean's
black dress suit was conspicuously conservative. Among the glitter of
orders and decorations shone the jewel lery and white skins of the
women.
Here assembled were the prize blooms of the huge tree that was the
British Empire. A tree grown strong above the rest of the forest. Two
centuries of victory in war had nurtured it, two hundred million
persons were its roots that sucked in the treasures of half the world
and sent them up along the shipping lanes to that grey city astride the
Thames that was its heart. And there this rich sap was digested and
transmuted into men. These were the men whose lazy speech and careful
nonchalance reflected the smugness and arrogance which made them hated
and feared by even the trunk of the great tree that gave them flower.
While the lesser trees crowded closer and sent their own roots out to
divert a little of its sustenance to themselves, the first disease had
already eaten into the wood beneath the bark of the giant.
America, India, Afghanistan, and South Africa had started the dry rot
that one day would bring it crashing down with a force that would
shatter its bulk into so many pieces as to prove it not teak but soft
pine.
Watching them now, Sean felt himself apart from them, closer in spirit
and purpose to those shaggy men whose Mausers still shouted desperate
defiance at them from the vast brown veld.
These thoughts threatened to spoil his mood and he thrust them down,
exchanged his empty glass for another filled with bubbling yellow wine
and attempted to join the banter of the young officers who surrounded
Candy. He succeeded only in conceiving a burning desire to punch one
of them between his downy moustaches. He was savouring the idea with
increasing relish when a touch on his arm turned him.
'Hello Courtney. Seem to find you everywhere there is either a fight
or a free drink. ' Startled, Sean turned to look into the austere face
and incongruously twinkling eyes of Major General John Acheson.
