The Colonel, who throughout his life while making a great show of radical opinions in the mess for the benefit of his brother-officers had always voted quietly for the Conservative party on the ground that they made upon the whole less of a hash of Imperial affairs than their Liberal opponents was profoundly troubled by the proceedings in Ulster.
"The beggars are undermining the morale of Ireland," he told Mr. Trupp. "And only those who\'ve been quartered there know what that means."
"If you said they were undermining the foundations of Society I\'d agree," the other answered. "Geddes says they\'ve poisoned the wells of civilisation, and he\'s about right."
The Presbyterian minister, indeed, usually so sane and moderate, had been roused to unusual vehemence by the general strike against the law engineered by the Conservative leaders.
"It\'s a reckless gamble in anarchy with the country\'s destiny at stake," he said.
"And financed by German Jews," added Joe Burt.
As the Campaign developed and the success of the unionists in tampering with the Army became always more apparent, the criticisms of the two men intensified. They hung like wolves upon the flank of the Colonel, pertinacious in pursuit, remorseless in attack.
"You can\'t get away from the fact that the whole Campaign is built on the power of the unionists to corrupt the officers of the Army," said the minister. "Without that the whole thing collapses."
"And so far," chimed in Joe, "A must say it looks as if they were building on a sure foundation."
The Colonel, outwardly gay, was inwardly miserable that his beloved Service should be dragged in the mud.
"What can you say to them?" he groaned to Mr. Trupp.
"Why," said the old surgeon brusquely, "tell em to tell their own rotten Government to govern or get out. Let em hang half a dozen politicians for treason, and shoot the same number of soldiers for sedition—and the thing\'s done."
And the bitterness of it was that it looked increasingly as if the critics were right.
The Colonel came home one night from a rare visit to London in black despair.
"The British officer never grows up," he complained to his wife. "He\'s a perfect baby." His long legs writhed themselves into knots, as he sucked at his pipe. "Do you remember that charming little feller Cherry Dugdale, who commanded the Borderers at Umballa?"
"The shikari?—rather."
"He\'s joined the Ulster Volunteers as a private."
Mrs. Lewknor chuckled. She was a Covenanter sans phrase, fierce almost as the Archdeacon and delighting in the embarrassments of the Government.
"Just like him," she said. "Little duck!"
Then came the crash.
The Commander-in-Chief in Ireland sent for General Gough, commanding the 3rd Cavalry Brigade at the Curragh, and asked him what his action would be in the event of the Government giving him and his Brigade the alternative of serving against Ulster or resigning. Gough forthwith called a conference of his officers, and seventy out of seventy-five signified their intention to resign.
"We would rather not shoot Irishmen," they said.
On the evening after the news came through the Colonel was walking down Terminus Road when he heard a provocative voice behind him.
"What about it, Colonel?"
He turned to find Joe Burt at his heels.
"What about what?" asked the Colonel.
"This mutiny of the officers at the Curragh."
The Colonel affected a gaiety he by no means felt.
"Well, what\'s your view?"
Joe was enthusiastic.
"Why, it\'s the finest example of Direct Action ever seen in this coontry. And it\'s been given by the Army officers!—That\'s what gets me."
"What\'s Direct Action?" asked the Colonel. The phrase in those days was unknown outside industrial circles.
"A strike, and especially a strike for political purposes," answered Joe. "General Gough and his officers have struck to prevent Home Rule being placed on the Statute Book. What if a Trade union had tried to hold up the coontry same road? It\'s what A\'ve always said," the engineer continued, joyously aggressive. "The officers of the British Army aren\'t to be trusted except when their own party\'s in power."
The Colonel walked on to the club.
There he found young Stanley Bessemere, just back from Ireland, sitting in a halo of cigar-smoke, the hero of an amused and admiring circle, recording his latest military exploits.
"We\'ve got the swine beat," he was saying confidently between puffs. "The Army won\'t fight. And the Government can do nothing."
The Colonel turned a vengeful eye upon him.
"Young man," he said, "are you aware that Labour\'s watching you? Labour\'s learning from you?"
"Labour be damned!" retorted the other with jovial brutality. "We\'ll deal with Labour all right when we\'ve got this lot of traitors out of office."
"Traitors!" called Mr. Trupp, harshly from his chair. "You talk of traitors!—you Tories!—I voted for you at the last General Election for the first time in my life on the sole ground of national defence. D\'you think I or any self-respecting man would have done so if we\'d known the jackanape tricks you\'d be up to?"
The two elderly men retired in dudgeon to the card-room.
"There\'s only one thing the matter with Ireland," grumbled the old surgeon. "And its always been the same thing."
"What\'s that?" asked the Colonel.
"The English politician," replied the other—"Ireland\'s curse."
Hard on the heels of the Curragh affair came the landing of arms from Krupp\'s, with the connivance, if not with the secret co-operation of the German Government, at Larne under the cover of the rebel Army, mobilised for the purpose. The Government wept a few patient tears over the outrage and did nothing.
The Colonel was irritated; Mr. Trupp almost vituperative.
"Geddes may say what he likes," remarked the former. "But I can\'t acquit the Government. They\'re encouraging the beggars to play it up."
"Acquit them!" fulminated the old surgeon. "I\'d impeach them on the spot. The law in abeyance! British ports seized under the guns of the British fleet! Gangs of terrorists patrolling the roads and openly boasting they\'ll assassinate any officer of the Crown who does his duty; and the Episcopalian Church blessing the lot! And the Government does nothing. It\'s a national disgrace!"
"It\'s all very well, Mr. Trupp," said Mr. Glynde, the senior member for the Borough, who was present. "But Ulster has a case, and we must consider it."
"Of course Ulster has a case," the other answered sharply. "Nobody but a fool denies it. I\'m attacking the Government, not Ulster. Let them restore law and order in Ireland. That\'s their first job. When they\'ve done that it\'ll be time enough to consider Ulster\'s grievances. Where\'s all this going to lead us?"
"Hell," said the Colonel gloomily.
He was, indeed, more miserable than he had ever been in his life.
Other old Service men he met, who loathed the Government, looked on with amused or spiteful complacency at the part the Army was playing in the huge conspiracy against the Crown. The Colonel saw nothing but the shame of it, its possible consequences, and effect on opinion, domestic, imperial and European.
He walked about as one in a maze: he could not understand.
Then Mr. Geddes came to see him.
The tall minister was very grave; and there was no question what he came about—the Army Conspiracy.
The Colonel looked out of the window and twisted his long legs as he heard the other out.
"Dear little Gough-y!" he murmured at the end. "The straightest thing that walks the earth."
He felt curiously helpless, as he had felt throughout the Campaign; unable to meet his adversaries except by the evasion and casuistical tricks his spirit loathed.
Mr. Geddes rose.
"Well, Colonel," he said. "I see no alternative but to resign my membership of the League. It\'s perfectly clear that if your scheme goes through it must be run by officers at the War Office. And I\'m afraid I must add that it seems equally clear now that it will be run for political purposes by men who put their party before their country."
The Colonel turned slowly round.
"You\'ve very kindly lent us St. Andrew\'s Hall for a meeting of the League next Friday. Do you cancel that?" he asked.
"Certainly not, Colone............