After two postponements, the polo tournament at last came off, and
provided the community with an exciting entertainment. Colonel and
Mrs. Tallboys never missed a single match; he being umpire, and a much
respected authority on the polo ground, here this former brilliant
performer was in his element. The little man knew most of the
players well, and was acquainted with the personal character, merits
or delinquencies, of every competing pony. The final, between the
Chaffinches and the Marauders, brought all Madras to the Island, on a
certain Thursday afternoon. Both teams were in magnificent form, and
after a severely contested match, the Chaffinches won by six goals to
five, amidst shouts and yells of applause.
Subsequently, Captain Byng received the cup at the gracious hands of
Her Excellency, and when Mallender joined the party from Hooper's
Gardens, he was accorded an ample share of praise; for his hard
straight hitting, and fine driving power, had more than once saved the
game. Colonel Tallboys rode about from group to group on his smart
pony, a proud and happy man, and Mrs. Villars, looking lovely in a
great feathered hat, gazed at the hero with her inspiring eyes, and
whispered "_Shabash!_"
The syren had undoubtedly caught Geoffrey in her toils; he was acutely
sensible of the glamour of her personality. With Lena Villars,
appearances were not altogether deceitful, nor beauty vain. She had
a soft low voice, a sympathetic, profoundly interested manner. Lena
was not clever--and candidly admitted the fact--but professed that
nothing gave her so much pleasure as to be with and listen to clever
people--subtly insinuating that such were her companions. The charming
widow was gentle, and timid--except at bridge, where her courage was
more or less foolhardy--and always lovely to behold. Her white gowns,
and tussore suits, appeared different to those of other women; so
fresh, so creaseless, so eminently becoming. Her hats, and Panamas,
exactly suited her. Of an evening in the verandah, with a chiffon
scarf twisted about her head, it seemed to Mallender that he was
contemplating a Madonna--or an angel. The fascinated young man was
ready to do whatever the lady willed, and was almost as one who is
hypnotised, or drugged--and yet, he was not in love with her; merely
her servant, her anxious attendant, one of her many slaves.
The season began to wane, and the guests at Hooper's Gardens to dwindle
in numbers. Mrs. Villars, Nancy, Sir William, the Wylies, and Geoffrey,
were all that remained. People were now preparing to ship themselves to
England, or to make engagements, and arrangements for the Hills.
"You come with us, of course, Geoffrey," said his cousin as they sat
in the smoking-room after tiffin. "You will get hunting, I'm taking up
the horses, and my friends the planters will give you capital shooting
in the _sholahs_. I hope, by this time, you have forgotten your crazy
nonsense--eh?"
"No, frankly, I have not," rejoined Mallender with unexpected decision.
"I am still holding on to it. I should like to go to Ootacamund
with you and Fan; you have been most awfully kind, and made me feel
absolutely at home--but I want to drive a bargain."
"Oh, bargain away!" rejoined his relative, but his tone was
apprehensive, his air ungracious.
"If I hear of some news I am expecting, I'll have to leave you,
probably at an hour's notice, for I've promised to hold myself in
readiness; and so if I go off rather abruptly, you will excuse me,
won't you?"
Colonel Tallboys, who was walking about the room, made no reply, but
pulled down his waistcoat, with an angry jerk.
"After all, you will remember that I came out here with a certain
object," urged the young man.
"Oh, yes, I'm aware of that, and if the object were known, you'd find
yourself an object of derision." Having delivered himself of this
opinion he sat down, and regarded his cousin with a fixed glare.
"I can't help it, I must stick to my job," rejoined Mallender doggedly.
"I may not be summoned; but if I am, and should be detained, letters to
the Bank of Madras will find me; of course I shall write. I know you
dislike this subject, so we will make it clear now, and once for all!"
"'Pon my soul, I think you are mad!" burst out Colonel Tallboys. "This
mania of yours is--serious. Here are Fan and I, both attached to you,
and looking on you more as--a--a--a son than anything, and you want to
bolt off after some will-o'-the-wisp. As for a clue, swindlers may, and
will fool you, but mark my words, you'll never get hold of one!"
"But I _have_ got hold of a slight one."
"Let's hear it!" he said sharply.
"I had a line from Brown and Co. to say, that my allowance ceased, from
the day I came to Madras."
Colonel Tallboys almost leapt out of his chair, his face was crimson.
"You call that a clue!" he shouted, "why, man alive, _I_ call it ruin!"
"No, not altogether," replied his companion in a steady voice, "I have
a good balance in hand, and before that is exhausted, I hope to have
solved the problem."
"'Pon my soul, I have no patience with you, Geoffrey," declared his
cousin fiercely; then standing over him, like a little bristling
terrier, he added, "Your father was undoubtedly eccentric of late
years, no doubt of that--and on one subject, I honestly believe you are
_not_ sane!"
"Well, well, Fred, let us leave it at that," replied Mallender with an
uneasy laugh, "don't let us talk about it any more."
"I may not talk, but I shall _think_," retorted Colonel Tallboys in a
loud, tremulous voice, and with this parting speech he hurried from
the room, overturning as he went an indignant dog, and a couple of
golf-sticks.
During all these weeks, though temporarily carried away by continuous
amusements, and the irresistible fascinations of Mrs. Villars,
Mallender had figuratively clung to, and corresponded with Jaffer
and Co.--in spite of the fact, that their answers were indefinite,
and letters few and far between. As he sat in the smoking-room, the
afternoon after this scene with his relative, a butler entered,
salaamed, and said:
"Someone come on business to see your Honour."
"All right," he answered, "show him in."
Almost treading on the servant's heels, there entered a thin,
flat-chested native, heavily pock-marked, with a cast in one of his
eyes--_not_ an attractive personality. He wore a long tight black
velvet coat, patent leather boots displaying a surprising eruption of
mother-of-pearl buttons, an embroidered skull cap, and gold spectacles.
With a profound salutation, he presented a visiting-card, on which was
neatly inscribed:
"From A. D. Shumilal and Co., Agents, 805 Pophams Broadway."
"Captain Mallender, I think?" he enquired.
"Yes, that's right."
"I have come as representative of this firm--who are acting for Jaffer
and Co., Hyderabad."
"I hope you bring me some news at last?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then glibly replied:
"Well, sir, you understand, that this is a very ticklish business and
difficult. So much time has passed. So much bridge under water as
you--say----"
"Yes, yes, yes. I know all that," returned Mallender impatiently.
"But we have now good hopes, that the case will end in success."
"Then you _have_ some information?"
"That is so; but the affair is most awfully expensive, and I am sent
here to request one small advance for outlay, only fifty pounds."
"But you have already had a hundred!"
"That is correct, and placed to credit," returned the clerk
imperturbably, now producing a book from a pocket in his Noah's Ark
coat, "and when you settle, I will hand you receipt."
"Yes, I dare say you will! You are rather premature, my friend. So far,
I've seen _no_ results for my money."
"Very soon, you shall. You understand, that we have to pay our staff
through the nose. You will be ready, when summoned, to start at once."
"Why, of course; that's what I'm here for," rejoined Mallender
impatiently.
"You may go far, you may go near. The man we are following fluctuates;
sometimes he is close at hand, and sometimes out of reach for years!"
"By Jove, this sounds promising!"
"He is now in the country, and we may corner him any day; but he is
very slip about and clever."
"You are sure that he is the right person?"
"Oh, yes, why not?" rejoined the clerk with easy confidence; and then,
deliberately ticking off each finger, he continued, "Army man, retired;
age between fifty and sixty,--always hiding identity, coming and going,
many, many years. No letters from England, no English friends, no real
home."
"Yes, it seems all right," said Mallender turning to open his
dispatch-box, and extract a cheque-book. "Here," having scribbled for
a moment, "is the money. As soon as you have any 'pucka' news, let me
know at once."
The clerk received the slip of green paper, and having examined it
carefully, laid down a receipt, and was about to depart when Mrs.
Brander appeared, just back from golf.
"Ah, I'm interrupting a business interview!" she exclaimed, backing to
the door.
"No, we have quite finished," replied Mallender, nodding to the baboo,
who immediately salaamed, and glided forth.
"I am certain that man has something to do with your mystery,"
announced the lady, now coming forward, and seating herself squarely in
an arm-chair.
"What do you mean?--what mystery?"
"Oh, you need not pretend! As a child, I was notorious for ferreting
out secrets; and I've always known that _you_ had one."
"But what makes you think so?"
"Uncle Fred told me you had come to India, about a gold mine; you
assured me, that you had no interest whatever in an ounce of India!
It is a pity you did not _agree_ in your story! Do tell the true tale
to me; I really think I ought to share it too! I extracted from Fanny
the fact, that there was something; but beyond that, I could not
pierce--no, not if I took a tin-opener! Perhaps _I_ could help you? At
least I'd be straight and honest, if not so sharp as your friend with
the cock-eye, and the wreath of forget-me-nots round his cap."
"All right, then I'll tell you what there is to know," said Mallender
impulsively, "but first, let me put away your sticks and golf-balls."
"Thank you; I've just done the nine-hole course, and beaten Fanny to
smithereens. Uncle Fred says I now walk with the golf stride!--isn't
he rude? Let us go into the verandah, where we cannot be overheard,"
and as she spoke, Mrs. Brander led the way out of the room, through the
long French window.
When they were seated side by side in two luxurious cane chairs,
Mallender imparted the outline of his enterprise without, remarkable to
relate, one interruption.
"Now what do you think of it?" he enquired, as he concluded.
"Give me time to consider. My head is reeling," declared Nancy, then
looking at him with her clever grey eyes, she went on: "Tom has been
about in this country; he was born here, and both his father and
grandfather were in the Indian Civil; he has heard of, and seen
strange things, so _I_ am not rudely incredulous. I believe that your
Uncle is still in the land--but why? A jig-saw puzzle is nothing to
this! I also believe that he will never allow you to find him. He
has thirty years' start, and knows every hole, and corner, in the
Presidency."
"But I don't believe that this man _is_ my Uncle," argued Mallender
with hasty emphasis, "so there is where we differ! He pretends he is,
to Brown and Brown, and is a clever and unscrupulous forger; but I
shall find his lair yet, and run the ruffian to earth, like any other
vermin."
"It's an enormous task," said Nancy; "especially for you, an utter
stranger, who cannot speak the language, and do not know our little
ways. What does your Baboo propose to do in exchange for the cheque?"
"Put me on to my man," was the prompt answer; "he has a clue."
"Ah, yes, so he says," she replied, with a glance of derision, "that
sort of creature would promise you the moon."
"Oh, he has not much to do with the business, merely a messenger, from
the agents of Jaffer and Co. As soon as they give me the office, I'm
off."
"Are you?" she exclaimed rather blankly, "and what about Fan, and Uncle
Fred?"
"He knows my object in coming out. I told him at once--in fact, within
the first five minutes."
"_And?_" now leaning forward, her chin on her hands.
"And--he won't help me. He is dead against me in this; in fact, he
can't bear it spoken of; we had a bit of a breeze to-day, and the
subject is barred!"
"Uncle Fred has a commonplace imagination, tied up in red tape, and
fastened with a sealed pattern knot, but a very long head on his square
little shoulders. I pin my faith to _his_ opinion. Still, I feel
conscious of the magnetism that belongs to a man of _purpose_, and I
must confess, that your romantic enterprise appeals to me; I will do
all I can to help you to find one, or the other. I'll be your mouse;
your Uncle--or the impostor--the lion!"
"Thank you awfully, my kind mouse."
"The woman who could assist you substantially, is Mrs. Fiske;
unfortunately, she is not a mouse but a cat!"
"I can't bear the sight of her!"
"Yes, I know, because she is so maddening at bridge; and always adds up
wrong, and argues; but she knows the Presidency, and every seamy tale
for the last thirty years is at her finger-ends. Talk, including evil
speaking, lying, and slandering--is her strong point. If you want to
dig up an old divorce case, a racing scandal, a bankruptcy, go to Mrs.
Fiske."
"I'm blessed if I do! Why do people stand her, and her tongue?"
"Because we are all afraid of her, shameful, miserable cowards! Of
course, she ought to have been prosecuted for libel over and over
again--but no one dares. On the contrary, we are all obsequiously civil
and tremble before her, never knowing whose turn it may be next. And
the awful part of it is, that her lies have always _some_ foundation!
For instance, if she were to see us sitting here together, talking
secrets----"
"Well, what then?" demanded her companion brusquely.
"She might send an anonymous wire to Tom. How he would laugh! Ha! ha!
ha!"
"I'm not going to laugh," declared Mallender with a flash in his eye,
"that sort of woman, is like an infectious disease. She ought to be
stuffed in a sack, and flung off the pier."
"Do please restrain your feelings," and Nancy lifted an appealing
hand, "and I will say something _wise_. As your friend and confidante,
I may assure you, that here in Madras, you will never get near your
object--no, nor in Ooty. For you, it's nothing but play, play, play.
_I_ can see through Uncle's little plan; it is to keep you captive in
Capua, ensnared by polo, golf--and other fascinations."
There was so much insinuation in the last three words, that Mallender
coloured to his ears.
"You will find no opportunity to prosecute your search; so like Bacon's
wise man, when you can't find opportunity--you must make it!"
"You are right," he answered with conviction, "I've agreed to this trip
to Ooty, but when I've seen the place, I shall take a pull, and start
on my own."
"Incognito, of course," she added impressively, "not as a young swell,
with guns and servants, searching for a lost relation. _That_ would
bring you scores of bogus uncles; a keen stealthy tracking in an humble
fashion, travelling intermediate class, and pretending to work for your
daily bread, is your best line."
"Yes," he agreed, "as soon as I see a glimmer I'll start in rags, if
necessary."
Nancy Brander critically considered her companion, from his glossy dark
hair, to his neat brown boots, and softly repeated the words:
"_Rags!_ You don't even know what they are! It's lucky you're searching
for a man! to find a woman out here, would be absolutely hopeless."
"Oh--a woman--I dare say!"
"I see," she nodded her head, "in _her_ case, you would not bother! You
are not really a ladies' man!"
"Depends on the lady," he answered with a laugh.
"Well, Cousin Geoffrey, whatever you do, don't go and marry your
grandmother!" was her somewhat enigmatic advice. "I shall write to
Tom to-night, and tell him to dredge his memory, and try if he can
recall any eccentric Englishmen, who live out here, and lie low;
not loafers, but others who have a little money, and their own very
particular reasons for not returning home; or who simply worship the
East, for being the East, and cannot tear themselves away from the sun.
Remember," she continued impressively, "that you must have some excuse
for your rambling. Suppose you give out that you are writing a good
popular book on the common, or garden, insects of India--including
white ants, and other _pouchees_, how would that be?"
"Do I look like a man who could write a book?" cried Mallender, jumping
to his feet, and standing before her.
"No, I cannot say you do; you look more like somebody musical. How
would you like to go round with a gramophone, on a little cart?"
"Since you gave me an option, I say, not at _all_!"
"I have it!" clapping her hands, "photography,--that will take you
anywhere and everywhere--short of a zenana."
"By Jove, a splendid idea! and I can photograph a bit. I'll buy a
camera to-morrow, and if this clue pans out all right, I'll take to the
road, as a travelling photographer."
"Beware, that the road does not take _you_," she answered gravely. "We
shall soon have the hot weather upon us, and you little know, what that
means--yet! You will keep Anthony, of course?"
"Yes, and I suppose I'll have to give him a peep behind the scenes, eh?"
"Quite unnecessary! He knows all your secrets, perhaps not every
detail, but I'm sure he suspects that you have some mysterious business
out here. No doubt your affairs are exhaustively discussed in the
cook-house, and the bazaar. Natives are so vitally interested in us,
and our concerns. We are always on the stage--_they_ are the audience.
I dare say Anthony has met, and exchanged confidences with your
baboo--or baboon! Anthony has an inquisitive eye, but you can trust
him. I advise you to tell him your plans, put him on his honour, swear
him to secrecy--with a promise of rupees. He will enjoy the enterprise
enormously! since secrecy and intrigue are naturally in his bones,
in fact, he ought to accept _half_ wages. Anyway, I believe you will
find him quite a useful Sherlock Holmes. Ah, here they all come, back
from the golf links. Mrs. Villars and Sir William leading the van, the
Wylies with Fan--so I will leave you to listen to the tale of their
triumphs, their scores, their drives, and how someone 'foozled,' and
someone swore! Good-bye!" and with a gay nod, Nancy Brander carried her
slim well-tailored figure, and smiling face, out of the verandah.
That same evening as he was dressing for dinner, Mallender took Anthony
into his confidence.
"I understand that you are trustworthy," he began abruptly, "and so
I am going to tell you something that you are to keep strictly to
yourself."
"Oh, yes, saar, certainly, saar," he answered with unexpected fervour,
"Master going to be married."
"No--you fool! See if the door is shut."
(Mallender had now been promoted to the house). Then in a few short
sentences he disclosed his plans. As the particulars were gradually
unfolded, Anthony's attitude and expression changed; his eyes dilated,
as for his mouth, it was wide open, and from its action, appeared to be
swallowing whole sentences, with unctuous avidity.
"So now you know," concluded Mallender, as tie in hand, he turned to
the glass.
"Saar, saar," stuttered a choking voice, "I hearing all this tale, when
I was small _chokra_--true I telling. My Uncle Fernandez, now very old,
no teeth, no belly, was thirty years ago head waiter in Cavalry Mess,
Bangalore, and that business making much talk, when two officers come
back from shoot, all 'Tulla Bulla,' and the other Captain nowhere!
Regiment all upside down, great bobbery making, and plenty sorry,
because there was _nothing_--no funeral--_no_ corpse body!"
"That missing officer was my Uncle," announced his master, "and I've
come to India to find out what became of him; and by and by I shall
start as a man who travels round, looking for employment."
"I beg your pardon, saar! Employment, a situation, _you_, saar!"
Anthony gasped out these words, and then stood breathless. From the
style of Mallender's belongings, clothes, and kit, he had formed a
high estimate of his status in life. Here was no poor Captain, with a
mere two hundred and sixteen rupees four annas a month, but a master
who wore the best silk underclothing, and socks, had dozens of shirts,
a silver mounted suit-case, and gave presents to ladies that cost
hundreds of rupees; in fact, he had been making up his mind to ask for
a rise of wages, and this projected playing at poverty descended like a
thunderbolt.
"I shall travel about as a photographer," resumed Mallender, as he
pulled on his coat, "and take groups and families, in out-of-the-way
places, and you shall accompany me as my assistant and carry the
camera."
This was not an alluring prospect. Anthony was naturally gregarious, he
liked the society of smart fellow-servants, he enjoyed bragging, and
cock-fighting, listening to piquant news, playing cards, and smoking
good cigars. Nevertheless, the prospect of a manhunt was exciting; yes,
he would gladly take part in _that_.
"You can get me some cheap bazaar suits in kharki and drill," continued
his master, "like what clerks wear; and a big common pith hat, and
lots of soap and insect powder, and some towels. All my Europe kit,
portmanteau, and guns, I'll leave behind me."
"I beg your pardon, saar, that bad sense. Better take one gun, plenty
_budmash_ up-country."
"Oh, a revolver will do. We must travel light."
"And how soon going, saar?"
"As soon as I hear some news I am expecting."
"Saar, beg your Honour's pardon, but I know one very clever man in Gora
Bazaar. He is wise as a snake, has his ear to the ground, and finds
lost things. Why not find lost gentlemans? Also, I knowing by your
Honour's favour, one _very_ good magic _wallah_."
"No, no, no," said Mallender impatiently, "none of that rot, Anthony!
You get things ready for a start, here are fifty rupees, and bring
a _dirzee_ to-morrow, to make me some clothes for roughing it
up-country."
At the same hour the next evening, Anthony as usual awaited his master,
and with him was a companion.
"Who's this?" enquired Mallender, "the _dirzee_?"
"No, saar, my assistant, saar. If we go up-country, plenty work for
_two_. I can cook and shoot game; this boy will do boots, wash dishes,
and carry camera. He is a heathen, and very cheap, only six rupees. His
name is Chinna-Sawmy, which by your favour means 'Little God.'"
"I hope he won't turn out a little devil!" responded Mallender. "Here,
let me have a look at him."
Chinna-Sawmy, who now stood forward, showing two rows of beautiful
teeth, was very dark, with inky black eyes, and black shades in his
cheerful countenance. His age might be ten, or it might be fifteen.
He wore a white coat, which almost swept the ground, an enormous
turban--both obviously borrowed--and two silver toe-rings.
"Well, Anthony, remember that you are responsible for him. Does he
speak English?"
"Oh, yes, saar," promptly responded Chinna-Sawmy, "I speak very well
English, and I have a good chit--I dog boy to General Pringle, and five
dogs; and Mrs. General, she liking me too much."
Here Anthony broke in. "Chinna-Sawmy is lucky, always finding things,
once find gold watch, and that for why I catching Chinna-Sawmy; better
than magic _wallah_," and he seized upon and exhibited the boy's hands,
on each of which were two thumbs--small, perfectly formed, and growing
from the same joint. "This bringing master plenty luck!" announced
Anthony with an air of overwhelming conviction. But his master recoiled
a step, and said:
"Oh, yes, all right; but I won't have the fellow to wait on _me_. I
dare say, out here, a double growth may be a fine thing, but I draw the
line at two thumbs on one plate," and having made this declaration,
Captain Mallender went to dinner, and Chinna-Sawmy gave expression to
his joy by standing on his head.