Moses laying down the law, 'but look here, Devereaux, you won't tell me I am a liar if I say the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and that my proof of what I say is that I, Jack Stone, have had Mrs Searle, and paid for my game! Yes, sir! Rupees five hundred did Jack Stone pay Mrs Searle for a night in Mrs Searle's bed.'
'Goodness, and you have actually -'
'I have actually fucked her, sir! and fucked her well! and a damned fine poke she is too, I can tell you, and well worth the five hundred she asks for the fun. Such a damned fine poke is she that Jack Stone, who is not a rich man but must lay up for a rainy day, has put three times five hundred rupees away in the bank of Simla, and means to lodge them some day soon in the bank of Ramsket, of which the banker and sole proprietress is Mrs Searle, the bank itself being her goloptious cunt, between her goloptious thighs. Did you mark that, young man!'
'And does Searle know this?' I asked, still incredulous.
'What? that I have had his wife?'
'No, not that you in particular have had her, but that she is had by other men, and for money paid down on the nail.'
'Know it! of course he does! It's her way of paying him off for his brutal conduct to her, to drive him nuts by writing and telling him how nicely she is dragging his name through the mud.'
'Then why does he not divorce her?' I cried indignantly, for I felt that it was monstrous for a wife, no matter what her grievance might be, to behave in such an outrageous manner.
'Ah! - but sink your voice a little lower, Devereaux, not that all this is not perfectly well known by our fellows, but about the divorce. Well, you see, if what I have heard is true, a divorce is the last thing Searle can get, or would care to ask for, no matter how much he might wish it could be managed.
'Certain little things would come out at the trial, and he might find himself not only minus a wife whom he hates, but also minus his liberty and what remains of his honour, and I don't think anyone would care to become a convict, even to rid himself of his wife!'
'What little things?' asked I, quite bitten with curiosity.
'Oh! Searle was a long time in Persia before he married, and he got the Persian taste for boys! Sodomy, you know!' And the modest major sank his voice to a whisper. 'Sodomy! he tried to get Mrs Searle to acquire a taste for it herself, but she, like a proper woman, indignantly refused to comply. It might have stopped there, but one night Searle, full of zeal and brandy, actually ravished his poor wife's - hem - hem - hem, well! - bum! and from that day she hated him - quite naturally, I think! Then, of course, she gave him the nag, nag, rough side of her tongue, until he nearly killed her, as I told you, in his passion. Then she went and set up at Ramsket.'
'But,' said I, horrified to hear such a disgusting story, so loathsome on either side, 'how is it she can demand such enormous sums for what I expect equally good returns can be got almost anywhere in India!'
'Oh! but you don't know. First of all, Mrs Searle is in society - she is, I suppose, the most beautiful woman in India, if not in all Asia!'
'In society!'
'Yes! bless you! you don't understand. Now come! You, who have seen the world at home! Have you not heard how Mrs So and So is suspected of poking, and yet you have met her every night at the best houses? Have you not seen common or fast women, who dare to do what your own wife or sister dare not, and nobody says more than that they are fast? Do you suppose you know what women actually do poke, and those who only get the credit for it? It is just the same with Mrs Searle. She lives in a pretty little bungalow, some three miles deep in the hills of Ramsket; she calls it Honeysuckle Lodge, but the funny fellows call it Cunnie Fuckle Lodge. Ha! ha! ha! and she has named the hill it is on Mount Venus; she stays there all the hot weather; in the cold weather she goes to Lucknow or Meerut or Agra or Benares or wherever