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<h2> CONSEQUENCES. </h2>
<p>Rosicrucian subtleties<br/>
In the Orient had rise;<br/>
Ye may find their teachers still<br/>
Under Jacatala's Hill.<br/>
Seek ye Bombast Paracelsus,<br/>
Read what Flood the Seeker tells us<br/>
Of the Dominant that runs<br/>
Through the cycles of the Suns—<br/>
Read my story last and see<br/>
Luna at her apogee.<br/></p>
<p>There are yearly appointments, and two-yearly appointments, and
five-yearly appointments at Simla, and there are, or used to be, permanent
appointments, whereon you stayed up for the term of your natural life and
secured red cheeks and a nice income. Of course, you could descend in the
cold weather; for Simla is rather dull then.</p>
<p>Tarrion came from goodness knows where—all away and away in some
forsaken part of Central India, where they call Pachmari a "Sanitarium,"
and drive behind trotting bullocks, I believe. He belonged to a regiment;
but what he really wanted to do was to escape from his regiment and live
in Simla forever and ever. He had no preference for anything in
particular, beyond a good horse and a nice partner. He thought he could do
everything well; which is a beautiful belief when you hold it with all
your heart. He was clever in many ways, and good to look at, and always
made people round him comfortable—even in Central India.</p>
<p>So he went up to Simla, and, because he was clever and amusing, he
gravitated naturally to Mrs. Hauksbee, who could forgive everything but
stupidity. Once he did her great service by changing the date on an
invitation-card for a big dance which Mrs. Hauksbee wished to attend, but
couldn't because she had quarrelled with the A.-D.-C., who took care,
being a mean man, to invite her to a small dance on the 6th instead of the
big Ball of the 26th. It was a very clever piece of forgery; and when Mrs.
Hauksbee showed the A.-D.-C. her invitation-card, and chaffed him mildly
for not better managing his vendettas, he really thought he had made a
mistake; and—which was wise—realized that it was no use to
fight with Mrs. Hauksbee. She was grateful to Tarrion and asked what she
could do for him. He said simply: "I'm a Freelance up here on leave, and
on the lookout for what I can loot. I haven't a square inch of interest in
all Simla. My name isn't known to any man with an appointment in his gift,
and I want an appointment—a good, sound, pukka one. I believe you
can do anything you turn yourself to do. Will you help me?" Mrs. Hauksbee
thought for a minute, and passed the last of her riding-whip through her
lips, as was her custom when thinking. Then her eyes sparkled, and she
said:—"I will;" and she shook hands on it. Tarrion, having perfect
confidence in this great woman, took no further thought of the business at
all. Except to wonder what sort of an appointment he would win.</p>
<p>Mrs. Hauksbee began calculating the prices of all the Heads of Departments
and Members of Council she knew, and the more she thought the more she
laughed, because her heart was in the game and it amused her. Then she
took a Civil List and ran over a few of the appointments. There are some
beautiful appointments in the Civil List. Eventually, she decided that,
though Tarrion was too good for the Political Department, she had better
begin by trying to get him in there. What were her own plans to this end,
does not matter in the least, for Luck or Fate played into her hands, and
she had nothing to do but to watch the course of events and take the
credit of them.</p>
<p>All Viceroys, when they first come out, pass through the "Diplomatic
Secrecy" craze. It wears off in time; but they all catch it in the
beginning, because they are new to the country. The particular Viceroy who
was suffering from the complaint just then—this was a long time ago,
before Lord Dufferin ever came from Canada, or Lord Ripon from the bosom
of the English Church—had it very badly; and the result was that men
who were new to keeping official secrets went about looking unhappy; and
the Viceroy plumed himself on the way in which he had instilled notions of
reticence into his Staff.</p>
<p>Now, the Supreme Government have a careless custom of committing what they
do to printed papers. These papers deal with all sorts of things—from
the payment of Rs. 200 to a "secret service" native, up to rebukes
administered to Vakils and Motamids of Native States, and rather brusque
letters to Native Princes, telling them to put their houses in order, to
refrain from kidnapping women, or filling offenders with pounded red
pepper, and eccentricities of that kind. Of course, these things could
never be made public, because Native Princes never err officially, and
their States are, officially, as well administered as Our territories.
Also, the private allowances to various queer people are not exactly
matters to put into newspapers, though they give quaint reading sometimes.
When the Supreme Government is at Simla, these papers are prepared there,
and go round to the people who ought to see them in office-boxes or by
post. The principle of secrecy was to that Viceroy quite as important as
the practice, and he held that a benevolent despotism like Ours should
never allow even little things, such as appointments of subordinate
clerks, to leak out till the proper time. He was always remarkable for his
principles.</p>
<p>There was a very important batch of papers in preparation at that time. It
had to travel from one end of Simla to the other by hand. It was not put
into an official envelope, but a large, square, pale-pink one; the matter
being in MS. on soft crinkley paper. It was addressed to "The Head Clerk,
etc., etc." Now, between "The Head Clerk, etc., etc.," and "Mrs. Hauksbee"
and a flourish, is no very great difference if the address be written in a
very bad hand, as this was. The chaprassi who took the envelope was not
more of an idiot than most chaprassis. He merely forgot where this most
unofficial cover was to be delivered, and so asked the first Englishman he
met, who happened to be a man riding down to Annandale in a great hurry.
The Englishman hardly looked, said: "Hauksbee Sahib ki Mem," and went on.
So did the chaprasss, because that letter was the last in stock and he
wanted to get his work over. There was no book to sign; he thrust the
letter into Mrs. Hauksbee's bearer's hands and went off to smoke with a
friend. Mrs. Hauksbee was expecting some cut-out pattern things in flimsy
paper from a friend. As soon as she got the big square packet, therefore,
she said, "Oh, the DEAR creature!" and tore it open with a paper-knife,
and all the MS. enclosures tumbled out on the floor.</p>
<p>Mrs. Hauksbee began reading. I have said the batch was rather important.
That is quite enough for you to know. It referred to some correspondence,
two measures, a peremptory order to a native chief and two dozen other
things. Mrs. Hauksbee gasped as she read, for the first glimpse of the
naked machinery of the Great Indian Government, stripped of its casings,
and lacquer, and paint, and guard-rails, impresses even the most stupid
man. And Mrs. Hauksbee was a clever woman. She was a little afraid at
first, and felt as if she had laid hold of a lightning-flash by the tail,
and did not quite know what to do with it. There were remarks and initials
at the side of the papers; and some of the remarks were rather more severe
than the papers. The initials belonged to men who are all dead or gone
now; but they were great in their day. Mrs. Hauksbee read on and thought
calmly as she read. Then the value of her trove struck her, and she cast
about for the best method of using it. Then Tarrion dropped in, and they
read through all the papers together, and Tarrion, not knowing how she had
come by them, vowed that Mrs. Hauksbee was the greatest woman on earth.
Which I believe was true, or nearly so.</p>
<p>"The honest course is always the best," said Tarrion after an hour and a
half of study and conversation. "All things considered, the Intelligence
Branch is about my form. Either that or the Foreign Office. I go to lay
siege to the High Gods in their Temples."</p>
<p>He did not seek a little man, or a little big man, or a weak Head of a
strong Department, but he called on the biggest and strongest man that the
Government owned, and explained that he wanted an appointment at Simla on
a good salary. The compound insolence of this amused the Strong Man, and,
as he had nothing to do for the moment, he listened to the proposals of
the audacious Tarrion. "You have, I presume, some special qualifications,
besides the gift of self-assertion, for the claims you put forwards?" said
the Strong Man. "That, Sir," said Tarrion, "is for you to judge." Then he
began, for he had a good memory, quoting a few of the more important notes
in the papers—slowly and one by one as a man drops chlorodyne into a
glass. When he had reached the peremptory order—and it WAS a
peremptory order—the Strong Man was troubled.</p>
<p>Tarrion wound up:—"And I fancy that special knowledge of this kind
is at least as valuable for, let us say, a berth in the Foreign Office, as
the fact of being the nephew of a distinguished officer's wife." That hit
the Strong Man hard, for the last appointment to the Foreign Office had
been by black favor, and he knew it. "I'll see what I can do for you,"
said the Strong Man. "Many thanks," said Tarrion. Then he left, and the
Strong Man departed to see how the appointment was to be blocked.</p>
<p>. . . . . . . . .<br/></p>
<p>Followed a pause of eleven days; with thunders and lightnings and much
telegraphing. The appointment was not a very important one, carrying only
between Rs. 500 and Rs. 700 a month; but, as the Viceroy said, it was the
principle of diplomatic secrecy that had to be maintained, and it was more
than likely that a boy so well supplied with special information would be
worth translating. So they translated him. They must have suspected him,
though he protested that his information was due to singular talents of
his own. Now, much of this story, including the after-history of the
missing envelope, you must fill in for yourself, because there are reasons
why it cannot be written. If you do not know about things Up Above, you
won't understand how to fill it in, and you will say it is impossible.</p>
<p>What the Viceroy said when Tarrion was introduced to him was:—"So,
this is the boy who 'rusked' the Government of India, is it? Recollect,
Sir, that is not done TWICE." So he must have known something.</p>
<p>What Tarrion said when he saw his appointment gazetted was:—"If Mrs.
Hauksbee were twenty years younger, and I her husband, I should be Viceroy
of India in twenty years."</p>
<p>What Mrs. Hauksbee said, when Tarrion thanked her, almost with tears in
his eyes, was first:—"I told you so!" and next, to herself:—"What
fools men are!"</p>
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