THE GRIFFIN'S GAWE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1757, 8 November 1905, Page 7

THE GRIFFIN'S GAWE.

(By F. B’A. O. De I/isle).

The clubroom at Mudnipur was almost deserted. It was in the very middle of the hot weather, and all the civilians with their wives and progeny had migrated to the hills. Only a few of the less fortunate military men remained, loafing round the “wire line” (mem., Exshaw’s Brandy) in the cool of the verandah, shaded by Khuskhus tatties; while the thermometer stood at 102 deg. I'ahr. in the shade, a playful way thermometers have m rlie giddy, gorgeous Eiasst. Only Major Martley, of theOorps of Scouts, and Gregson, of the Gunners, lounged in the reading-room of the Mudnipur Club. The major, one of the real old curry-and-rice school, hated Gregson, the bitter-tonguad gunner of the New Era. All the Jtt.A. are supercilious. Applied mechanics and the casine make these fellows so infernally conceited. Gregson was a sort of a beast, too. He always potted his opponent's ball at billiards, and he was a demon at “snooker The man who potted the white deliberately, and of malice prepense, the major declared, was a condemned cad, and no gentleman. They had each one and the same reason for remaining—that reason sat in a bedroom at the back of the club premises reading a washy yellow-bacic. Eternally, cherchez la femme ! She had been appointed manageress of the Mudnipur Club by Corstin, one of the directors, who held that all women —from barmaids to manageresses—drew the callow youth of the cantonments with the force of a motorcar. And the major and Gregson were sitting each other out, in order to have a word with the manageress, if only for five minutes, alone! Suddenly to them appeared an apparition.. It was the newest “griffin,” or greenhorn, from Home. The Honourable Augustus Coligny Challingford, a newlyappointed clerk in the P.W.D. He was ostensibly a gentleman, though a ghastly bounder. Be did not explore the foundations of his molar® with a horseshoe nail, nor did he keep his finger nails in perpetual mourning in memory of the late Caesar Augustus, his illustrious namesake. His magnificent apparel paralysed Mudnipur, and the natives fell at his feet as if he were Siva or Juggernaut. He took the station by . storm —Mudnipur had never before had a randy and a peer of the realm combined in its immediate vicinity. “My socks!” he exclaimed, on entering the room, “are you two Fooligans hanging around after Disey? You haven’t got a hope! It’s no race! The Challingford is on the scene!” Gregson absently helped himself to the last of the brandy, and put his foot on the ice blanket. Major Martley turned sardonically to Gregson, and with a wave of his hand toward® Challingford asked: “What’s ths?” Gregson grinned. “The Honourable Augustus Challingford. P.W:D !” he replied laconically. “Charmed!” cooed the “griffin,” evenm

the major through a gold-rimmed monocole. “You don't look it!” remarked the major, icily, in the tone he adopted when examining a malingerer bef*»t.t a morning parade. "And, damme, sir I feel sure you don't feel it! This climate don't agree with the son of a (gToss reference to primal ancestor® of Ghallingford) chimpanzee like you. What the (the reverse of heaven) do you want here?” "Staying at the Dak Bungalow,” chirruped the Honourable Gussie, "Heard all about you Johnnies theahThought I'd come and have a look at Disey. Eh?” The Major snorted like a warhorse. "You will find the lady at 'tiffin' in ten minutes. . I leave you to her tender mercies. She will no doubt be delighted—> temporarily—with the society of a (sanguinary) penniless, paper-smoking son of a bazaar coolie a The major, smiled satirically, breathed heavily, and roared at the smiling Ghallingford: "I have no hesitation in saying that I hope that 'Disey/ as yon call her, will deal with an empty-headed, eoor without whiskers like you as I will, you moon-chested calf, if ever you show your snub nose before me again. You should never have left your keeper!” Purple in the face, with s&bre clanking angrily, the major clattered down the club steps, mounted his pony, and galloped off to barrackß. "Bit of an emetic, that butcher of your, eh?” said the Hon Augustus to Gregson. "You had better get along to the barracks; there's a whole pile of letters and things gone up' for you from the Dak Office.” Gregson jumped up, said something furious under his breath, and hurriedly •followed the major. Five seconds after Miss Cotter's plump bosom was throbbing against the Honourable Gussie's Oxford Mat shirt front, and her luscious lips seemed as if glued under his waxed moustache. After sieve /al moments of delirious entertainment the "griffin” spoke: "When do the entries close?” "Next week —on Tuesday,” answered Daisy. "How's the major’s pony ?” "Going well,” she replied. "What's the gunner fellow got?' "He is racing that black Arab mare, Zuleika; you know her!” said Daisy. "Yes, we beat her at Lucknow last year. They did not recognise you, eh" he asked.

“No, my disguise is perfect,” she replied nestling her golden head in hi* vest pocket. “You've got the powders safe, I hope/' he asked anxiously. Daisy deepened the impression of her curly head on his epigastrium as she vigorously nodded assent. Ilfteen seconds of a further intoxicating interlude followed, and then, effecting a separation judiciously, the “griffin” made Daisy a hasty farewell, and passed out just in time to escape Gregson returning from, the barracks empty-handed. From that day onward Miss Cotter gave Major Martley and Captain Gregson every opportunity of having private and confidential conversations with her. The day of the Mudnipur races approached, and both Major Martley and Captain Gregson felt confident of winning the Western India Pony Derby. Captain Gregson owned a black Arab mare of dubious soundness, but under his cunning hand she could get to the business end of a mile, under strong pressure, without indulging in religious rights which necessitated her kneeling down or standing on her head too often. The major had a handsome, country-bred gelding, a regular clipper at six furlongs; but it required a masterly handling to keep him moving along at the finish of a fast-run mile. Both the ponies were trained from the Club, where they were stabled, and their owners made no secret of their respective chances. Among the entries for the Pony Derby was the Honourable Augustus Challingford's bay Australian pony Bananalander; but, as the owner had absolutely never ridden in a race, and •as he signified his intention of riding for himself, nobody cared to back his horse. Meanwhile Daisy was going strong with Major Martley and Captain Gregson. On the night before the races, after his fourth “peg” and a most satisfactory chat with Misß Cotter, the major had a nap of three-quarters of an hour on the verandah at the club. He slept so soundly that Gregson, who came in later, had ample opportunity for a spoon, with Daisy—an eminently agreeable spoon, too, since he placed a magnificent diamond rjng on her engagement finger, and at the same time presented her with a big cheque for preliminary expenses. On the morning of the races Miss Cotter went for a ride on her bicycle, which she kept in the stables where the horses were trained. She had a good look at them on her return, when the syces were away at their breakfast. Major Martley was secretary and treasurer of the Mudnipur Pace Club, and his friends were genuinely sorry to see his pony run a disgustingly bad last. Captain Gregson also failed to get his pony to race a yard, and he came to the conclusion that the mare had got a chill and could not gallop. By the way, Bananalancler won, eyes out, with his hit beu tween his gums, by six lengths, and the Honourable Guss.e nearly fell off in fiuishincr. But still he won! - '

That night the club was filled to overflowing with visitors, and during a temporary absence, for which he could givo no definite account, Major Martley lost ~hi« handbag, containing all the takings at the Race Club gates that day. The bag had been left securely locked up m the office of the club at 11 o'clock; at 12 o T clock it was gone. But neither detectives nor police ever solved the mystery of the robbery. Miss Cotter, in a high state of virtuous indignation, resigned her position, broke off her dual engagements with Major Martley and Captain Gregson, and was led to the hymeneal altar a few weeks after by the Honourable Augustus Challingford. The P.W.D. and_ Mudnipur lost a shining light of many horse-power when the Hon Gussie resigned his position, and conveyed Lady Challingford away from the evil influences of Mudnipur clubdom. And a new manageress reigned in her stead. , One morning Gregson found himself alone with Major Martley in the club room. "Excuse my reverting to an old sore, major, but did you know that that bounder Challingford was married to Miss Cotter before she came here to manage the club?" "No! Was he really ?" asked the astonished major. "Well, he must have been, for the Deputy Commissioner's orderly heard Challingford say to her, when they were leaving after the wedding there: . This is the fourth time we've played this game, old . woman!'" , "The devil he did!" exclaimed the major. . - •' "Yes," said Gregson. "They were a smart lot. Where on earth did. you get to on the'night that the race club funds were puckerowed?" ® The major blushed guiltily. "She used to—to—wish me good-night every night, because we —we —were supposed to be engaged " "The devil!" cried Gregson. "Go on." "Well, as the club was so crowded, she invited me down to the compound. Of course, 1 couldn't say where I was. She cost me nearly 5000 rupees!" The major fidgeted uneasily. "My hat! She got a 500 rupee diamond ring from me. and cheque for 600 rupees for a trousseau !" stammered Gregton. The major turned away to a window, and glowering at the monsoonal rain outside, muttered: "Fortune is false, and hope a dream !" • sAnd Captain Gregson drew a mental tangent across the ropes supporting the heavy punkah, whistling meditatively' At length he spoke : - "So that was the Griffin's Game!" —"Queenslander."