Accompanied by Anthony and Chinna-Sawmy, his luggage and many bundles,
Mallender left Madras by rail at five o'clock. The carriages were
crammed in the usual fashion; natives of India have an insatiable
passion for travel, and are absolutely regardless of heat, packed
compartments, and semi-suffocation. The train dawdled through the
suburbs, then away across hot dry plains, by palms, villages and
temples, till at length it crawled into Panjeverram. Panjeverram,
although but twenty miles from the City was a silent, forlorn, and
forsaken, old place; there was no sign of life or bustle at its
modest humble station,--not even a _gharry_ in waiting. The luggage
and bundles were therefore placed on a _tailer_ (or hand-cart) and
trundled off to the Dâk Bungalow, through a great avenue of banyan
trees,--so closely meeting overhead, that they constituted a long black
tunnel; only a faint light here and there like fire-flies in a forest
broke its cimmerian gloom. The little party did not encounter a soul,
before they turned over a brick culvert, and found themselves in front
of the rest-house. This was old, and out of repair; its atmosphere,
even that hot March night, felt damp; and the air was heavily
impregnated by an odour of mildew, mushrooms, and bats.
A visitor was evidently a precious rarity, and the venerable Dâk Matey
was full of rapture, and eager and voluble apologies. He shouted
orders to some unseen subordinate in the back verandah, and proceeded
to light lamps and bustle about. He laid a newspaper as table-cloth,
placed on it two candles in black bottles, and between these, a bunch
of zinnias in a mustard tin; a knife and fork and tumbler, produced
from Mallender's tiffin basket, gave a business-like air to these
preparations; a pat of white butter, and a small bazaar loaf, were
added by Anthony, who casually remarked that "he had just done kill one
big snake, in Master's bathroom!"
"Very bad that snake, but only coming after water," he explained, as he
moved about unpacking, giving directions in Tamil to the hoary Matey,
and goading him to frenzied exertions. Then turning to Mallender, with
an air of authority, he said:
"Master better wash, and I bring soup."
The bedroom proved to be nearly as bare as the immortal cupboard of
Mother Hubbard, and merely contained a charpoy, a chair, a battered
punkah, and cobwebs,--thick as ropes! The dinner also proved a
disappointment; soup of Worcester sauce and hot water, goat chops, the
inevitable anchovy toast, and a small bottle of beer.
Mallender realised that he must adjust himself to the position, and get
used to this sort of thing! He had fallen into fastidious ways, and
been spoiled, and pampered, by the luxuries of Hooper's Gardens.
When the meal was over, and the newspaper had been ceremoniously
removed, he drew a candle towards him and proceeded to re-read the
letter of instructions, which had been duly delivered at the Madras
hotel:
"DEAR SIR,
"We have now the pleasure to forward by hand the information as
required. Your gentleman, Major Smith, lives at Panjeverram where he
owns a large bungalow, called the Nabob's House, and lives in great
secrecy. The place is surrounded by high walls, and entered by a
heavy wooden gate. Major Smith's affairs are managed by old
servants, who cannot be _bribed_; he is rarely seen, sometimes not
for years, but he is in Panjeverram _now._ He receives no visitors
or letters, no more than if he was _defunct_. We believe that he is
your man, and hope we are correct. We should add, that you will
find it prudent to be on the spot, and that to gain admittance will
be difficult; it may take weeks, or even months."
Mallender's heart sank. Months!--in this squalid bungalow, the resort
of toddy cats, bats, and snakes.
"Perseverance must be rewarded," the letter continued. "If your
servants can make friends with Major Smith's servants, it will be
the thin edge of the wedge, but you must push, push, _push_."
Having folded up this epistle, Mallender lit a cigar, and went out to
pace the verandah, forgetful and regardless of reptiles, till he trod
upon the dead snake, and uttering a word which begins and ends with
"D," he kicked the limp body into the bushes, whereupon Anthony, who
had been summoned, and stood at the doorway at attention, was moved to
say:
"Master taking care, and never walking out of light. Other snake
_always_ coming, to look for lover!"
"Hang the snakes' lovers!" cried his master impatiently. "I called you
to say, that I am likely to be here for some time, and you must send
a coolie to Madras early to-morrow, to fetch stores, and other things
from Oakes and Spencer's."
"Chinna-Sawmy can go," replied Smiler with an air of superb
importance. "I can spare him, plenty things wanted. To-day all hurry
and hurly-burly, no time to arrange. Nothing here, no filter, no
charcoal, no matches, no cocoanut oil, no--" spreading out his hands,
"anything--but one old fool man."
"There is a bazaar, I presume?"
"Yes, but for native peoples only and half-castes, who live in the old
bungalows--and never paying no rent. No one ever coming, but sometimes
to see big big temple, and house opposite," pointing dramatically into
the thick darkness, "where one English lady was murdered. Master, chase
with knife, and cut throat!"
"There is one English gentleman here," said Mallender, "Major Smith.
I want you to make acquaintance with his servants, I wish to meet him
myself."
"Oh, yes, sir, I understand," replied Anthony, with a whole volume of
significance in his voice. "That I can do! I shall get introduced--then
I will introduce Master."
"I see you know what I mean,--and now you can go."
Thus dismissed, Anthony took his noiseless departure, and presently
made one of the corpse-like figures, swathed in white, that were
stretched on the ground--successfully wooing sleep, between the
servants' quarters, and the cook's house.
Mallender remained alone, pacing to and fro, whilst the candles within
burnt low, a distant pi dog howled, and bats made muffled noises, as
they fluttered in and out of the verandah.
* * * * *
Early the next morning, after a truly miserable night,--thanks to heat,
mosquitoes and the skirmishing of toddy cats in the ceiling-cloth,
the adventurer went forth to reconnoitre, and make observations. He
discovered an immensely wide road, with stretches of grass at either
side, lined with magnificent banyans. Here and there a bungalow
arrested the eye; some were large and stately, some were insignificant;
some were thatched, some tiled, many--among a wild tangle of fruit
trees, and long-neglected bushes of oleander, and jasmin--were falling
into ruin; one and all the miserable reminders of the opulence, and
glories of the past. In India the elements assist old Father Time with
amazing zeal and success. The blasting hot winds, the blistering sun,
torrents of tropical downpour and the perpetual ravages of legions
of white ants, soon occasion surprising changes in an uninhabited
dwelling. At a little distance to the left, the explorer noticed a
straggling bazaar; still continuing the main road, he came to a house
standing apart, and surrounded by a high and dignified wall,--such as
might enclose an important monastic institution. The entrance was by a
heavy iron-studded wooden gate, with a small postern.
Mallender walked slowly past, then turned, and retraced his steps, and
finally halted before the gate. Within, was the man he sought! How
soon would he see him face to face? How soon might he summon the law
to his assistance? Undoubtedly the criminal had found an admirable
hiding-place; here he lay, so to speak, entrenched, far from the
madding crowd. Probably these solid walls had once encompassed the home
and harem of some wealthy "Free" Madras merchant, in the good old times
when Panjeverram was a fashionable resort, and the pagoda tree was
laden with golden fruit.
For several days nothing happened, save that each morning the heat
steadily increased, and like some bodily force descended upon the
hard, cracked soil, and consumed all moisture. The only breath of air
came from the flat plains behind the station, where spasmodic puffs
of a scorching sirocco, suggested the gasps of some dying monster.
Mallender, a prey to monotony and prickly heat, sat in a stuffy little
darkened room, under a listless old punkah, clad in pyjamas, smoking,
and meditating; listening to the roar of the hot wind, the thin rustle
of whirling dead leaves, and realising that he was in for a long siege!
But such was his character, the more difficulties that confronted him,
the more his courage and determination hardened. Each evening, he
strolled past the Nabob's House like a policeman on duty, but the big
gate was always shut fast, and the premises were silent as a cemetery.
Meanwhile Anthony was craftily undermining the position, and making
insidious advances to the native household; in short, he exhibited
cunning, which almost rose to the dignity of a talent!
"I have spoken to Francis the butler," he announced, mysteriously.
"He is a big big man, with red turban and gold watch. He is Roman
Catholic, and knows my father! He say to me, 'Why your Master coming
here?' and he look awfully cross. I say, 'Panjeverram too much
interesting to gentleman, who make photographs to get money.' 'But he
has two servants,' he say, 'and brings Europe stores, and books, from
Madras.--Truly _not_ poor man!'"
"That must have stumped you, Smiler?"
"'No, no,' I say, awfullee quick, 'Stores and books _he_ never pay
for. Them a present from one charitable lady gone to the Hills, Mrs.
Tallboys, and as for wages, I telling, Sawmy come as _my_ friend only;
and I only taking eight rupees.'"
"Why, you sinner, I pay you thirty!" exclaimed his master, aghast at
this string of ready lies. "Anyway, he did not believe you, I'll swear."
"Suppose, he say I no tell truth, but what can do?" raising his
shoulders to his ears. "If Master will show work, I carry camera, and
we pass bungalow five, six times, a day; then there will be talk, and
Francis, butler, will think, 'That Anthony, good Christian boy; _he_
never telling lies,' and will believe me!"
"All right, Smiler, your character shall be cleared. We will start out
this afternoon, and I'll photograph the old temple, and lots of other
objects, and make a reputation in the bazaar."
According to this arrangement, the big butler had now many
opportunities of beholding the diligent gentleman with his camera and
attendant passing continually to and fro; or taking snapshots of the
most remarkable local objects. The fame of the photographer spread;
Anthony exhibited attractive specimens among his acquaintances, and
the train was fired! Mallender became known as "the picture-catching
master," and not merely "the stranger, who had a _chokra_ with four
thumbs."
"Excuse me, saar," pleaded the counsellor, "but to-day, I think of
plenty good business. Suppose we go, I and you, and knock loudly on
big gate of Nabob's House, two hours after the midday rice--when all
people have eaten well, and are full and contented; we will ask humble
permission to take photographs. There are young folks within. I gave
the portrait you took of me to their ayah; she liking, very, awfullee
much,--and has doubtless shown to family."
Mallender thought the programme excellent, and proceeded to act upon
it, that same afternoon. After long and loud hammering on the wooden
postern, it was at last opened by a peon, and a glimpse of the interior
premises was disclosed.
At the farthest end, stood an imposing red-tiled bungalow; between
this and the gate was a garden, a well, and a tennis-court--where two
boys were playing. Mallender saw no more, as the postern was suddenly
darkened by a large turbaned figure. This presumably was Francis,
looking alarmingly fierce, and majestic, who stepping into the road,
closed the postern behind him with stern significance.
"Photographs--no," waving a beringed hand; "we do not want them, this
private house only--please not to trouble, and to go _away_."
The fiat seemed irrevocable, and Geoffrey's hopes sank to zero, when as
Francis reopened the door a child's golden head was thrust out, and
she called in a shrill voice:
"Francis, why you make all this bobbery? We are going to be done and
_I_ say so!"
"You go back, missy," he answered angrily. "Naughty girl,--you go back."
"Yes, we must, we must!" she screamed. The petition was supported by
shouts, and a far-away female voice was heard in shrill expostulation.
Then the door was violently slammed, and the scene in every sense
closed.
As the defeated schemers were moving slowly homeward, a servant came
panting behind them.
"You are to come," he called out, breathlessly. "The Miss has given
permission."
When the impostor and his satellite crossed the vast enclosure, he
noticed fine horses picketed in the open stables, Nellore cows, and a
motor; also flocks of pigeons, a luxuriant well-watered garden, with
patches of luscious green lucerne, and trees of guava, pomegranate, and
bananas.
In the verandah were two lads, nearly as dark as Chinna-Sawmy, with
sleek black hair, and beaming eager faces. There was also a little girl
with clouds of golden locks, and singularly arresting beauty, a prim
elderly European woman with a long upper lip, and a flat figure encased
in a stiff print gown, and Black Francis--a mute, hostile, presence.
Besides this group on the verandah, there was also a large collection
of retainers, who were apparently not entitled to a footing in the
house.
"They tell me ye take photographs?" interrogated "the Miss" in a high
lachrymose Cork accent.
"Yes, all sorts. I came out here to do the temples, but I'm glad of any
job," replied Mallender, now lying with the fluency of Anthony himself.
"Well, these children have been bothering the life out of me, so I
suppose I bid to let you take them," and she glanced at Francis, who
represented as he stood a living thundercloud.
This permission was received with rapture by the young people; the boys
made diabolical grimaces at each other, and the little girl flung her
arms round the neck of "the Miss" and nearly strangled her with a hug.
"Oh, well, ye can do a group," she gasped, "and if it comes out all
right, we may have the bungalow."
"Yes, and the horses and dogs, and the new motor, and the monkey!"
supplemented the child, as she clapped her hands, and skipped about.
"Now, Mota, you be quiet," commanded "the Miss"; then turning to
Mallender, and pointing to his portfolio in Anthony's hands, "I'd like
to have a look at your things, young man."
"Certainly," answered the photographer, "with pleasure."
"Ye talk like a gentleman, so ye do," she remarked, as she considered
Mallender with a pair of sharp grey eyes.
"I--I," taken a little aback,--"have been fairly well educated."
"'Tis more than I have myself," she declared, "but edication on some,
does be like diamond buckles on a pair of brogues; I misdoubt,"
glancing at his shabby kharki suit, "that ye have been a nice play
boy!" and with this remark she sat down, and holding the portfolio in
her lap went carefully through its contents, whilst Mota rested her
chin on her shoulder, and the two boys leant over Mota. Fortunately
for the adventurer, they were all three loud and unanimous in their
admiration.
"Look at the big temple and the one-eyed beggar!" cried Mota, "and see
Soomia with his buffaloes, and the old Dâk Bungalow Matey. Oh, let us
be done at once!"
"I can take a group now," said Mallender, briskly.
"Shall I change, Dixie?" enquired the child, "my new lace frock?"
"No, no, ye will do finely as ye are, get your hair brushed, and you
boys, Paul and Pedro, go and put on your jackets."
As Mallender adjusted the camera, he made a careful mental photograph
of the situation. At the side of the bungalow, he noticed another
entrance,--doubtless opening on the plains at the rear. The verandah
walls were covered with horns and heads, chiefly of black buck and
sambur; comfortable chairs and tables, laden with books and papers,
gave a homely touch to the scene, and gasping near the water filter,
lay an elderly, well-bred, fox-terrier.
In the presence of a large and attentive crowd, the operator arranged
his group, placing "the Miss" in the centre. As he allowed her to
choose her own pose, she sat bolt upright, her chin elevated, and a
large hand spread like a star-fish, on either knee. "The Miss" was
supported by a boy on each side, whilst Mota reclined at her feet.
As Mallender scrutinised the party, from under his black velvet
cloth, he realised that the little girl was unquestionably of good
birth,--judging by her delicate features, and well-bred air; the boys
seemed sharp and intelligent, and closely resembled one another, indeed
now that he looked at them again, of course they were twins!
After a long pause, many injunctions to be "steady" and an
authoritative "hush" from Anthony, his master uttered the word "_Now_,"
and the cap was off.
Another snapshot followed, and then the operator carried away the
plates into a specially darkened bathroom, accompanied by the truculent
and suspicious Francis. As the groups were a success, and their price
was moderate, "the Miss" suggested a view of the bungalow. This was
followed by a full-sized reproduction of the monkey--a deplorable
failure--and the old fox-terrier, who well-marked, and short of leg,
had undoubtedly at some period of his career abandoned the shores of
England.
With such a collection of plates, Mallender was well content;
he particularly wished to return again, and yet again, until he
encountered and confronted the mysterious master of the Nabob's House.
It took some time to develop and print the plates, as they were sent to
Madras, and three days had elapsed before the photographer once more
presented himself at the wooden postern.
Meanwhile he heard from Anthony, that the sahib was at home; for
Chinna-Sawmy had obtained a footing in the go-downs, thanks to thumb
tricks, and his repertoire of new, and improper, Tamil songs! The
photographs were approved, with acclamation, and their bearer received
a boisterous welcome from the boys and Mota, who amazing to relate, was
their own sister! They all became demonstratively friendly, not to say
familiar, and asked Mallender where he came from? how much he earned?
and, last but by no means least, his name? which he informed them was
"Geoffrey."
"Geoffrey," repeated "the Miss"; "I knew a fellow of that name wance
in the Roifles--his father had a baker's shop in Cork; bedad, he was
a nice bhoy! breaking out of barracks, making away with his kit,
fighting, and playing the fool."
Her reminiscences were disturbed by the young people, who swarmed
about the camera, begging leave to take snapshots of one another,
or to pull off the cap, and to this the photographer graciously
consented,--anything to linger, and to gain time.
"Photography is pure foolery," declared "the Miss," "and I would say
against it, only it makes a diversion for them, poor children, and days
do hang terribly heavy in the holidays and the hot weather: the boys
goes to Doveton College, in Madras. Ye might do a single one of Miss
Mota here just as a surprise for her Dada."
To this suggestion Mallender willingly assented. The ready and
delighted Mota was posed, told to hold up her chin, try and think of
something very _nice_, and make a good picture!
As the photographer's head was buried under the black cloth, taking
a final look at his pretty little sitter, he heard the sound of a
ringing, spurred, footfall on the verandah, a loud exclamation from
the child, and a gruff voice, asking:
"What's all _this_?"
Mallender hastily divested himself of his head covering, and for
once in his life was struck absolutely dumb. The man in riding-kit,
and sun topee, who was staring at him, might be Major Smith, in
Panjeverram,--but in England, he was a certain Major Rochfort, with
whom the photographer was well acquainted! A good-looking, popular,
middle-aged individual,--married to a great heiress. When Mallender was
quartered in York, he had often met him in the hunting field, had dined
at his house, and shot his covers.
Major Rochfort, for his part, stood transfixed, glaring at the
intruder, as if he could not credit the evidence of his senses!