HIS COUNTRY’S HONOUR.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXXX, Issue 2130, 8 February 1909, Page 2

HIS COUNTRY’S HONOUR.

THE UNDOING OF A BULLY

By JACK MAY. BELVARIA SPEAKS

The parlour of the Pine Cone tavern looked cosy on entering from the outside, for the night was bitterly cold, and the fire and easychairs gave the room a n inviting appearance. Three men sat in front of the blaze, cigars in their mouths, and glasses filled with wine were 7 on the tables at their left hand. The swords hanging at their sides proclaimed two of them to be military men, even if their trim figures and undress uniform of the Hussars did not. They were dainty and neat of dress, and smoked their cigars with the. air of connoisseurs, leaning lazily back in their chairs the while. The third man, in his dark loungesuit of Bond Street cut, provided a striking contrast, and, with his close-cropped, fair hair, and broad, and well-knit figure, he bore the unmistakable stamp of the British subaltern. He also smoked placidly, but did not join much in the conversation, though he listened intently to that of the two Hussars. Presently, with a careless “Good night,” he rose and went out. “Smart young chap, that, Lutreck,” remarked the younger of the two foreigners. The other’s reply was aPP are utiy evasive : “Heavens ! if the Captain sees him ?” Instinctively their eyes turned to an empty armchair drawn up before the fire. “Thunder !” exclaimed Lutreck. with an indrawn hiss through his teeth. “What time docs he arrive ?” His companion looked at the clock. “He is due now,” he said, with something of a sigh. “Can’t we hope to appeal to his chivalrous side, if they were ?” asked Lutreck. Berger, the first speaker, laughed, but not humourously 7. “Captain Rincke with a chivalrous side ! What nonsense are you talking, Lutreck ? As well try 7 to appeal to the devil himself. Alex, liincke is a bully, and will remain so. I would not advise you to interfere, Lutreck. You know the Captain’s side with a revolver, and the way he killed his last man, young Manton, of the English Life Guards.” Lieutenant Maurice Lutreck uttered something like a groan. “Good heavens !” he exclaimed, as his hand instinctively grasped the hilt of his sword. “1 have a mind to challenge him myself with swords. Why 7 should he play the devil with these men, and we sit down and look calmly on as at a stage duel ? Berger, rouse y 7 ourself ! Can’t we do something?” But Gaston Berger still smiled that inhumorous smile of his. He patted his companion’s nearest arm confidentially as he said ; “The Captain will see to it that you are not allowed to speak for youssolf. I’ve seen the result of Alex. Rincke’s displeasure. It’s like his revolver —deadly. Once more, take my advice —Maurice, keep quiet. “How do we know,” he continued after a pause, “that this young man will see him ? He has gone, Rincke has not come, they 7 will not meet. And even if they do, this man may be able to control himself, or, if it comes to fighting, he may be as good a shot as Rincke. Who knows ? Because the Captain has always killed his man, and has never met his m a tch yet, that does not s a y he will not do so some day. There must be some in the British Army as good shots as in our own. There is no trouble yet. Wait until it conics.” Lutreck laughed scornfully 7. “No trouble yet ? No ; but there will he if they 7 meet. As to your theory that there may 7 be us good shots with the English as with us —that of course is possible, but with the Captain concerned it is very improbable. How many Englishmen has he killed ?” Berger smiled again, and began to count on his fingers. “There w a s Granton, of the Artillery, here on leave ; Morris, of the Engineers, learning field wireless telegraphy ; Stafford, of the Marines, who brought the President the invitation to the Fleet ; then there was Johnson, also of the Marines, who came with him ; and lastly, Man ton, of the Guards.”

“Heavens!” came from Lutreck. “What a reputation ! And all for nothing—for no earthly cause whatever.”

“Except 'a lodged hate and certain loathing,’ as Shakespeare has it, against England,” said Berger drily.

As he rose to fill his glass, the door opened, and a man in the undress uniform of Hussars followed by two young officers, entered. At fast sight he appeared somewhat handsome ; and his figure, tall though slight, suggested great strength. But when one’s glance finally rested on his face it stayed there for a few moments, uncertain whether the prospect attracted or repelled one. His eyes were of a peculiar shade of steely blue ; and occasionally, as his supercilious glance went round the room, they appealed to glitter like those of a snake. And this was Captain Alexander Rincke, the best revolver-shot and the worst bully in the Bavarian Army.

He appeared to scarcely notice the other two by the fire, who exchanged covert glances, but seated himself m the armchair. Presently the waiter entered, and, approaching the Captain, waited deferentially till he should be disposed to notice him. For some ten minutes he stood there, not daring to interrupt the reader, when the Captain rousing himself for a draught of wine, saw hm. For a moment he glared at him, the garcon appearing decidedly uncomfortable during that period. •‘Will monsieur have supper here ?” he asked quaveringly. Still Rincke gazed steadily at him, his eyes appearing to dilate like a cat s, while the steely glitter was even more apparent in them. Then he spake:

“Yis, spawn of the gutter, and sharp, too ! Don't stand there looking at me as though I were a show animal.” Incidents like this were daily occurrences when Rincke was there ; and the two junior officers of the Captain’s regiment, who had been witnesses of the scene, laughed with that servile, mock-hearty air of the coward who fears to displease his superior if he be in the wrong, lest the bully’s attention should be turned on him. Rincke, hearing them, shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and went on with his supper In silence.

He had scarcely resumed eating when the door opened, and Lutreck gasped with something akin to fear as the young Englishman walked into the room with the easy stride of a man who has health and spirits on his side.

He passed the two by the fire with a courteous “Good-evening,” which was returned ; but as he went by the Captain’s table, and was about to bestow the same salutation on him, he tripped over his foot. Politely' begging his pardon, he was about to Pass on, when liincke rose from his chair and blundered heavily against him. The Englishman turned a nd regarded him with mingled surprise and disgust. “Have you not the decency to apologise ?” he said -quietly. liincke, scarcely deigning to look in his direction, shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of supreme contempt, and resumed his chair.

No sooner had the Englishman been comfortably seated and had his wine placed before him, than liincke once more arose, and, walking in his direction, stood looking at him as a cat watches a mouse.

The ncw-comcr stood this for some time, and twice Lutreck got up with his mouth open and his hand on his sword, and twice was pulled back into his se a t by his friend. At last the young Englishman could stand the scrutiny no longer. He laid down the paper he was reading and met the Captain’s intolerant ga'-c with a cool, fixed one. “Have you done staring at me ? he asked quietly. Kincke did not move, so the Englishman rose quietly 7 from his scat, and, calling the waiter, desired to know how much he owed. As he was handing the money over, the bully once more brushed against him, scattering the coins all over the floor.

The elasticity 7 of the Britisher’s patience reached the limit and snapped. Seizing a glass of wine from the table ho dashed it full into the bully’s face. “You dog of an Englishman !” cried Rincke wildly. “You shall pay for this with your life !”

Lutreck’s w 7 rath at the same instant broke bounds. Wrenching himself free from Berger’s restraining hand, with his sword drawn, he leaped to his feet and confronted the Captain. “ Captain Rincke,” he cried, “though you be my superior officer, or the devil himself, I will fight you sooner than this quarrel shall be forced upon the Englishman !” The Captain turned his coldly sneering face towards the speaker, and, drawing a revolver from his hip-pocket, said : “Lieutenant Lutreck, I give you five minutes to recall what you said, or you shall most certainly 7 be the first to be killed. N o w choose.” Before Lutreck could speak, Berger rose from his Corner, a nd, taking his companion by 7 the elbow and shoulder, forced his sword from his hand and dragged him, swearing volubly and struggling violently, from the room.

Captain Rincke, with his characteristic shrug of his shoulders, turned once more upon the Englishman. “So much for that craven,” he said. “They are well matched. Now 7 , sir, you challenge me, do you ? Come, then, let us be speedy in the matter. 1 have several alb'ointments later in the evening, and the garden behind this house is convenient.”

For a moment the young Englishman’s face quivered. Before his eyes there flitted the picture of a house in a country village in England where lived those whose thoughts were daily 7 with their son ; and after that rose the face of a f?i ,7 l, who some weeks back had kissed him as he left Waterloo Station on dispatch duty, saying she would not be happy 7 again till he returned. What if he never returned ? A coid shudder passed over him ; then his English spirit, triumphed. “I’m ready,” said hd simply.

The Captain gazed at him a moment, then turned to the two men who had. entered the room at his call.

“You, M. Pravilch,” said ho, “stand a s second to this —cr —gentleman. M. Moulpied will act as mine.”

Outside, the cold air was refreshing, and the stars glittered frostily in the sky. The Captain walked jauntily, whistling a music-hall air, The Englishman’s step was linn, but his gaze was on the ground. A voice kept ringing in his cars :

“Cood-hye, dearest .lack, Como hack to me soon, I shall not he happy till you ri’Uirn,” A groan escaped him. He was just in ’he heyd‘y of life, of love, and this was l*erhaps the end. lie was called to his senses by his second : “Are you ready, m’sieur ?” He rai-sed his eyes, and saw that they had arrived at a clearing between two tall trees where the light from the moon made everything a bright as day. The Captain’s second was measuring the paces. “All is ready, m’sieur. One hundred paces. Are you ready- ?” The Captain cut in ; “For Heaven’s sake be speedy, Moulpied ! You are as long-winded as my horse.” Pravitch raised a handkerchief, counted three, and dropped it. The revolvers cracked simultaneously. There was a slight exclamation from the Captain, a wild cry of pain from the Englishman, then a cry of “Margie !,” and —silence. The seconds rushed to the prostrate form of the Englishman ; and together they bent over him.

‘‘You aim is as true as ever. Captain,” said Moulpied. ‘‘The shot has gone stright through the heart

Rincke gave a disdainful sniff. ‘‘He was poor sport, that fool,” he said, ‘‘though he scratched my arm.” His second looked alarmed. ‘‘ls it deep, m’sieur ?” ‘‘Tut, no ; a mere scratch. Y'ou will see to a proper disposal of that.” And, with •» kick of his foot at the bodj' on the ground, he went, leaving the two seconds gazing at the remains of what, five minutes before, had been the embodiment of health and manliness.

ENGLAND HEARS

Eight weeks had passed since the events related ; eight weeks of pain and grief to the hearts in England who awaited the coming of one who lay stiff and cold in death. The mother show-fed nothing outwardly to indicate the incurable wound in her loving heart, and the father masked his terrible anguish of mind under a cloak of commiseration and condolence for his wife’s grief. While, almost in a world apart, a girl lay on her bed, delirious with brain fever, spasmodically crying out for

“Jack, my darling !” who would never answer that call. And now the night had arrived when Captain Cutler, the brother of the dead man, was exacted home from a three years’ Staff appointment in India- A cable had been sent informing him of his brother s death, though the manner of his untimely end had been withheld until he arrived. There was a crunch of feet on the gravel drive, and a tall, military form appeared before the open front door, to be clasped passionately to one who felt at last that here was someone who could, to some extent stop the bleeding of her heart. The father pressed his son's hand in silence. There was no need for words even if they could have broken coherently from the pent-up tcciing. which they strove to conceal. Later, when, worn out with mingled teais of joy and sorrow, the mother had retired, the father and son say o\ci the fire talking. “Tell me the old story, dad,” said the soldier. And in a few broken sentences the father related everything. For a moment or so after the old man had concluded, Henry Cutler remained silent ; then he rose nom his chair, muttering savagely between his teeth :

“The devil, the hell-hound ! Why doesn't Cod strike him dead ?” The old man laid his hand lightly on his arm.

“This is no work for the intervention of Cod. but of man,” said he. And, giving him a Pat on the shoulder, he left the room. The soldier sat for a few moments, after his father had gone, with his head in his hands, thinking. Suddenly he sprang to his feet.

“He’s right,” said he to the pictures. By Heaven he is ! Jack shall be avenged !”

The circumstances connected with the death of Lieutenant Cutler was the one absorbing topic of the civil and military clubs, and had been such for the past eight weeks. The ugly reputation of the Belvarian otlicers had got abroad through more than one source ; and feeling ran high against the cool, callous way in which the Englishmen wore invcighled to their death. Matters began to take a more serious aspect when veiled hints were dropped about drawing-room officers whose breasts were decorated with honours to hide the cowardice of their hearts, while German papers made insinuations as to the cutting up of the useless members of the English Army.

But the heart of an Englishman, stung to desperation by the ties of brotherhood, and the disgrace to his country, awoke to the full villainy of this callous butchery. And when Captain Henry Cutler, V.C., appeared in the orderly-room of his battalion the morning after- his arrival from India, and asked permission to proceed on the Continent, people felt that a “Daniel had come to judgment” at last. Colonel Forster glanced at the tall, fine figure which stood before him, the bronzed face bearing the mark of a great sorrow engraved upon it, and mingled admiration and pity for this gallant soldier was apparent in his voice when he spoke: “Well, Cutler, what can 1 do for

you ?”

“Will you forward my aPPH cat ion for leave of absence on the Continent for a week or ten days, sir,” said the other.

The Colonel was first a military disciplinarian, and, second, a kindhearted, generous, and much-beloved gentleman. He despised the military regime which made it imperarive to ask questions, but duty, though not always pleasant, must be done.

“Why ?” he asked. “You are home on leave and free to move about this country. Why leave of absence abroad ?”

Cutler hesitated a moment before he answered.

1 wish to take my mother and father away for a holiday,” said he.

Colonel Forester thought for a moment or two ; then he said quietly : “I will recommend it, my lad. May my son stand by me in trouble as you have stood by your people!”

“Thank you, sir,” said Culler, turning away to hide (ho quiver of the face that the Colonel's words caused. Then, saluting smartly, he went out.

He was just leaving the barracks on his way home, feeling happier than he had done for many a day, when a corporal overtook him with a letter from the Colonel. Wondering what it could contain, he. waited till the messenger was out of sight before he opened it. 'The contents for a moment made him start almost guiltily ; then he remembered that the Colonel was a man, besides a soldier. The words were brief, but pungent with meaning: “Your leave is granted. When you strike, strike straight ami deep, lad. Strike for the honour of your country a ; ’> well as for the avenging of your family name. —Forester.” This was all, but Cutler’s heart was made lighter still. “As there is a Cod in Heaven, and as lam a man, I will !” said he solemnly.

HI. KNOLAN I) REPLIES

“I tell you, Gaston, he will meet his match one of these days.” It was Maurice Lutreck who spoke. For his insubordination to a superior officer he had been dismissed from the army, but the Pine Cone tavern still held attractions for him.

Berger flicked the ash off his cigarette before he replied. ‘‘Friend Maurice,” said he, ‘‘be patient and wait. It will come, be sure of that.”

‘‘Mon Dieu, yes ; but why do we not kill him ?” ‘‘ I have something to live for yet,” said his friend quietly. ‘‘Yes ; but what have I to live for ?”

“Revenge !” said Berger quietly. ‘‘Why should you and I soil our hands wit hj the blood of this * canaille,’ this pig ? England is capable of fighting Jxer own battles. Let the stroke come from her.”

j ‘‘What of that fellow who has i been here lately?” asked Lutreck. j ‘‘That tall Englishman.”

| ‘‘How should I know, mon cher ami ?” replied Berger. ‘‘He is a 1 typical Englishman—heavy, and ; full of beef and fire, though as cool | as a sword-blade on the surface.” j ‘‘He’s never met the Captain yet,” ' said Lutreck, with his eyes on the ; ceiling. | ‘‘No, because Rincke has been away on special duty at Versath,” said j Berger. ’ ‘‘When does he return ?” “Ho has returned.”

“The deuce ! Ho may he here tonight, then ?” “Yes.” At this moment the- landlord entered, and placed the well-known chair in its usual place, and the table, glasses, and paper near it. “Does Captain lUncke come here to-night ?” asked BA’ger. “Yes, sir,’’ said tfhe landlord, with a side-glance at Lukrcck ; “the first time since M- I’Anglais had that little dispute with him. The time has gone slowly and dull since he went away, but now that he returns, pour quoi ?’’ And, finishing his sentence with a significant movement of his hands, he returned to the kitchen.

The curtain overhanging the door of the smokcroom in which the two friends sat was the next minute pushed aside ; but it was not the Captain who appeared, as Lutreck’s exclamation under his breath showed.

“The Englishman,’’ he said quietly to Berger. Captain Cutler nodded a cheery “Good- evening, gentlemen,” to the occupants of the room ; then, seeing the comfortable armchair placed so invitingly near the fire, he sat down and proceeded to light a cigar. Berger and Eutreck exchanged glances agairt. Eutreck made as il to spe a k, but Berger’s detaining hand kept him silent. “A most comfortable chair, this,” said Cutler, as he rang the bell.

“I’ve never seen it here before. It is a new importation ?”

Berger started. “It’s a chair reserved for someone,” said he. A light flashed across Cutler s m i n d.

“Oh ! ” said he. “Who may it be for, then ?”

“Captain Rincke,” said, Berger, “captain of the Hussars, and the best shot and swordsman in our army.”

“How interesting !’’ said Cutler from behind the paper which he had just picked up. The host entered at this minute with the wine. Cutler thanked him and then resumed his paper, but the host’s amazement broke out in words.

“Pardon, m’sicur,” said he. “but that chair is reserved for Captain Rincke. You cannot sit there.’’ “This chair is most comfortable, said Cutler, apparently addressing the newspaper. “Co away. Bon t bother me, my good fellow.”

The host tried again. “If m’sicur wishes, I will bring him another just as good as the one in which he is now sitting, said he, “but that one is always kept for the Captain, and he will have no other.”

“See here, M'sicur Pravitch : if those other chairs are just as good as this, you bring one here for this Captain. And, when you see him, give him my l>o.st respects, and tell him to go to the devil.”

And once more the paper was resumed.

Ijutreck laughed, in spite of himself, at the coolness of this remark; and even Berger’s impassive face relaxed into a smile. But the smile was short-lived. The street-door opened again ; and the landlord, with a despairing glance at the placid figure in the chair, disappeared as Captain Rincke entered, followed by his lapdogs, as Berger called those who fawned on the bully to keep his goodwill. He was evidently in a merry humour, which was his most dangerous one, for he was laughing and joking with his companions as he came in. He gave a curt nod to Berger, shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of contempt as his eyes met those of Lutreck, and then faced the figure in the chair. The two lapdogs nudged each other and laughed meaningly behind their hands. Rincke for a moment stood still ; then he stepped forward and deliberately tripped over Cutler’s extended feet. The paper was lowered for an instant, and the eyes of the two men met—Cutler’s with an expression as though he expected an apology, Rincke’s with a. mingled look of sarcastic mirth and rising anger.

•Tin sorry my feet were in your way, sir,” said Cutler, quietly. The Captain gazed steadily at him for a minute or two, but the steady gaze of the Englishman never wavered, and at last Rincke, with another shrug of his shoulders, drew up a chair so that it completely blocked the heat of the fire from Cutler.

“Might I ask you, sir, to move a little further away?” said Cutler quietly. “I am somewhat incommoded by the proximity of your chair.”

Rincke took not the slightest notice of this remark, and, opening the bottle of wine which the landlord at this moment brought in, he contrived to spill the contents of the first glass over Cutler's leg. The two lapdogs sniggered audi.b----1 V .

“Croat heavens !” muttered Lutreck, between his teeth.

Berger’s lighted cigarette dropped unheeded from his fingers, and proceeded to burn a hole in the carpet. Still Cutler took no notice. Rincke swallowed two glasses of wine in quick succession, then he deliberately fared Cutler, and proceeded to stare steadily at that part of the paper where he estimated the Englishman's eyes would be.

’Pen, minutes passed thus. The breathing of the four onlookers was distinctly audible, and Lai track's grip tightened on the arms of his chair till it creaked with the strain. Cutler at last lowered his paper and took up the glass to drink, disregarding the sneering, piercing glance upon him. Bincke at once dropped his cigar, and, in picking it up, knocked the glass from the other's hand and the wine splashed on the carpet.

The whole thing was so wilfully done that Lutreck jumped a couple of inches out of his seat at the cool audacity of it.

“Will you apologise for that ?” said Cutler slowly, with a look of unspeakable loathing fixed on the Captain.

Still no reply, only the look oi sneering, taunting arrogance. Once more Cutler resumed his paper ; ten minutes passed ;t he tension was becoming unbearable. Rincke’s face had been getting redder and redder for some minutes past, and, now the veins stood out in ominous prominence on it. His whole being quivered with suppressed anger. At last he picked up his glass, and, leaning towards the Englishman, said, as he raised it to his lips :

i “I drink to you, scum of the Engi lish gutter, who are afraid to stand up for yourself. You are like the rest of your vile nation, cowards — ■ all talk and no do.” The crisis had come. Cutler threw ‘ down his paper and sprang from his

chair so suddenly that the two lapdogs, who had been craning their necks forward to see everything, started back, and. Coining in contact with a chair, made an undignified heap on the floor.

The blazed

English Guardsman’s eyes

“Say that again if you dare !’’ he roared.

The Captain coolly poured out some wine, a smile of derision on his face.

“I repeat the remarks,’’ he said, as he raised his glass. With an oath. Cutler lifted his tightly clenched fist and smashed it into the taunting, jeering face, knocking the bully backwards inlo the fireplace, where, for a moment, he lay stunned, his parted lips showing the unsightly gaps caused bv the loss of his front teeth.

Suddenly he rose, and, with a vile oath, whipped out his revolver, but Cutler was too quick for him. He ducked like lightning, and, before the other could press the trigger, had seized his right wrist in a grip of steel, forcing the weapon towards the ceiling. Then, with his disengaged hand, he grasped the bully by the throat and jammed him against tin? wall.

Captain Ilinckc was possessed of no mean strength, but he was like a child in the hands of the mighty Englishman ; and his wild staring eyes gave visible proof of the 1 act that he realised he had met. his match at last. An expression of abject fear passed over his face ; and the horrified onlookers saw the revolver slowly describe a half-circle in the air till it pointed a foot above the bully’s head. They would have rushed forward to intervene had not Berger stepped in front of them with drawn sword.

Then a hoarse cry burst from Rincke's throat, as, after exerting bis utmost strength, he found he was unable to stay one jot the downward movement of the weapon. The muscles in Cutler’s left hand, as it gripped his antagonist’s wrist, stood out like whip-cord, and slowly but surely he forced the revolver down. Now it was but an inch above the close-cropped black head, and the braggart gave vent to wild despairing screams as ho saw death horrible, implacable, starring him in the face.

Now the barrel pointed straight between the terror-stricken, distended eyes, and, with a sudden shitting of his grip. Cutler moved his hand till his forefinger passed round the trigger. There was a slight contraction of the muscles, a deafeningreport, and Captain Alexander Rincke dropped, a lifeless heap, to the floor. The duellist had fought his last fight, and retribution, slow but terrible, had sought him out. For a moment the five stood spellbound. Cutler was the first to recover himself. “If you want me, gentleman,” he said coolly, “here is my card. I am not leaving the town for a day or two.” Berger took it ; then, impelled by a sudden impulse, he and Butrcck held out their hands. “Monsieur,” said the former, “you arc a man ! You have saved your country’s name.” Cutler took each hand in turn.

“And it’s honour !” said he. — The “Rod Magazine.”