Chronicles of the Secret Service by Alexander Wilson

Author:Alexander Wilson [Alexander Wilson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749018900
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2016-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

THAT BLOODY AFGHAN

Part One

Major-General Sir Leslie Hastings, General Officer Commanding Peshawar Command, entered his headquarters, and marched to his office, perfunctorily returning the salutes of the sentries. A young staff officer, catching sight of him, beat a hasty retreat into the room of Captain Charteris, the general’s secretary.

‘Look out for squalls, Topknot,’ he warned the latter, ‘Jumbo’s got ’em badly this morning. His breakfast curry’s disagreed with him, or Mrs Jumbo’s sent him a cholera belt or something. His face is like a beetroot fresh from the boil.’

‘It always is,’ commented Charteris who, due to a tuft of hair that would stick up, was affectionately known as Topknot. ‘What can you expect when he weighs twenty stone if an ounce and has a tummy like Rashid’s bullock?’

‘Oh, it’s worse than usual. It’s not only beetroot red, it’s vermilion, magenta, cerise, purple and crimson by turns. The old boy has definitely got the needle.’

Charteris looked concerned.

‘Oh, damn!’ he exclaimed. ‘He’ll keep me fussing about all the morning with his blasted orders and counter-orders. I have a date to go riding with Phyllis Goddard, too. It’s infernal heat, I expect, that’s got him. Why the devil he can’t run the show from Murree or somewhere less like Hades, I can’t fathom.’

‘What’s Phyllis doing down here? When did she come from the Hills?’

Charteris was about to reply, when an orderly entered the room; came smartly to attention.

‘General’s compliments, sir,’ he snapped like an automaton. ‘Will you step along to his room?’

‘Very well, Barley.’ The orderly departed as smartly as he had arrived. ‘He hasn’t wasted much time,’ grunted Topknot. He rose from his desk. ‘I’m damned if I don’t think I’ll ask for leave.’

‘Don’t ask him this morning, old son,’ grinned the other. ‘Shall I go a-riding with little Phyllis in your place?’

‘Go to the devil!’ grunted Charteris.

General Hastings hardly merited his secretary’s uncomplimentary description. He was certainly stoutish, but not unpleasantly so, and his weight was probably not more than thirteen stone, if that. Perhaps the fact that he was rather short caused him to appear more rotund than he actually was. Despite these physical drawbacks, he contrived to look thoroughly military. His closely cut, crisp grey hair and small moustache aided in producing this – Charteris called it ‘delusional’ – effect. Somebody had, back in the distant past, labelled him ‘Jumbo’. The nickname had stuck, and was so well known throughout the army that wonder had been expressed on occasions, by disrespectful brother officers, at his name not appearing in the army list as Major-General Sir Leslie (Jumbo) Hastings. He possessed a face that was invariably a deep red. It was almost round and, from it, glared a fierce pair of blue eyes under bushy eyebrows that, like his hair and moustache, were grey.

Charteris found him running a large handkerchief round between his collar and bull-like neck, and muttering to himself. The young officer saluted, stood respectfully watching the operation from the other side of the huge desk.

‘Morning, Charteris,’ grunted the general.

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